Yuletide Spirit
by Eilike
Summary: It's the day before Christmas and Sebastian appears to be down with a cold. Being in charge of nursing him, the Phantomhive servants do their best to prevent the worst...
1. Shopping Desaster

Hi there. After finishing "Chains of Command" I didn't think, I'd be back so soon. Really, I didn't. But when the plot for a Christmas story came into my head, I couldn't resist. I couldn't complete it in time for Christmas, though. So I'll give you, what I have so far. Hope, you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel and/or the Phantomhive servants. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++ Chapter 1: Shopping Desaster +++

Christmas time always meant a busy month for Ciel Phantomhive and his "Funtom" toy company. While children and parents all over the kingdom bought his products, he himself hardly found time to look up and count the remaining days on the calendar. His butler kept writing notes and memoranda, concerning certain Christmas obligations, which Ciel kept ignoring. His butler quoted schedules, which Ciel dismissed with a scowl. His butler even suggested that he get a present for his master's fiancée. At least for her, if Ciel did not want to follow the custom and provide give-aways for his numerous business partners. Ciel considered it outrageous, the way Sebastian meddled in his most private affairs.

So it came that the very day before Christmas, Ciel still had no idea what to give to Miss Elizabeth. Hence he decided to go to town and seek inspiration by roaming the shops and department stores.

Actually he didn't decide it at all. His butler finally made the decision for him and before the young earl knew, he was already seated in a carriage, heading for London.

"I don't want to do this," Ciel said, as Sebastian helped him exit from the carriage in front of Harrods. "Look at that! What are all these people doing here?"

"The habit of delaying the purchase of Christmas presents to the very last moment seems a common state of mind with London's society," commented his butler.

Sullenly, Ciel watched the shopping crowds enter and leave the popular store. "Next year I'll spend Christmas somewhere else. Some place, where it's sunny and warm and less crowded."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and shifted into tutor mode. "It is absolutely out of the question for you to leave London at this time of the year, young master. There are events to attend, courtesy visits to make and to receive - "

"I know. Elizabeth's, for example."

"A gentleman of your rank and status must comply with conventions. It is his duty to set an example and - "

"Conventions may change," Ciel pointed out.

"But not starting with the current Earl of Phantomhive, youngest of his title," Sebastian simply said. "Not while I am your butler."

"Hey! Don't touch me! Stop that! I mean it!" Ciel squirmed in vain to slap at the gloved hand pushing him from behind. Trying to stop himself from being shoved, he made a few staggering steps. Then he hesitated and said in a hushed voice: "_Sebastian!_ People are staring at us!"

"Unconventional, isn't it?" The butler sneered. "Do you still think you want to turn your back on customary behavior?"

"I certainly won't turn my back on you again. Damn you."

"And a Merry Christmas to you, too, young master." Sebastian bowed deeply. With downcast eyes and a silky smile he held the door open.

Ciel entered the store. A malicious smile formed on his lips.

"Now, where do we start?" he mused aloud, tapping the knob of his walking stick on his chin. "I know. Perfumes!"

His butler's face fell.

"Let's go and test some! Come on!" Darkly amused, Ciel took the lead.

* * *

In preparation for the shopping trip Sebastian had performed a market research on Miss Elizabeth's tastes and likings and come up with three main criteria. Things to make Ciel's fiancée go "Yaaaayyyy!" had to be a) pink, b) cute and c) expensive.

Ciel explained it to the salesgirl in the perfume department, who nodded like she knew exactly, what he was talking about. She commenced to arrange bottles and flacons on the display. The young earl smirked. He was well aware that Sebastian didn't stand beside him, but some feet distant, gazing at a decorative Christmas tree as if he'd never seen one before.

"Come on, you gotta help me with this," Ciel said. "We might already be on to something. The lady here says, she can fill any perfume into a flacon that's pink and looks like a cute, grinning kitty."

The shop assistant sprayed samples of smells on little slips of paper and dried them with quick, flicking moves of her wrist. Then she offered them to Ciel, one by one, smiling, explaining, pointing out notes of violet, musk, rosewood, patchouli and bergamot. Eventually, Ciel held a whole fan of scented paper slips in his hand. Under the salesgirl's expectant eyes, fun suddenly became serious business.

"I can't decide." Helpless, the young earl shook his head. "Sebastian, what's your favorite?"

He turned round and at the same time pushed the whole bunch of samples in the general direction of his butler. Unfortunately, Sebastian was closer than Ciel had expected and the frightful hodgepodge of scents hit him square in the nose.

For one split second of shock Sebastian seemed frozen, squinting at the papers with wide, flabbergasted eyes. He made a small, whimpering noise in his throat that sounded like a puppy finding a hornet on its muzzle.

And then -

"_Gyaah!_" Sebastian lunged backwards, covering his nose with both hands. He made a muffled sound, then turned and fled, almost knocking the Christmas tree over as he pushed past. However, he was gone, before the tree could realize it had been hit at full speed. Ciel and the shop assistant both stared at the place, where he'd been. Especially the girl's face was remarkably shocked.

"But, sir...," she started.

"Be right back!" Ciel headed for the exit, hoping that Sebastian had instinctively gone in search for fresh air. He wondered how naively he had believed people to stare at him before. They hadn't. They stopped and stared _now_.

_Well,_ Ciel thought desperately, _if Sebastian should unfold wings to escape from the crowd, maybe I can make people believe it's a marketing gag to promote Funtom toys. _

Fortunately, Sebastian did no such thing. Ciel found his butler right outside the store, standing slightly hunched and hyperventilating, as if he'd actually sprinted.

Ciel strolled closer. "Too much vanilla and essence of violets, I agree."

"Don't you ever do that again!" the demon gasped. He produced a handkerchief and blew his nose. "Sense of smell's all dead..."

"Why do I feel that our conversations are getting ever more humorless?" Ciel made a sweeping motion with his walking stick. "Finish and come on back inside! I still have to do my shopping."

* * *

During the next hour Ciel undertook a journey into a whole different world. A girl's world, in which things seemed invariably pretty and frilly - and, in Ciel's opinion, utterly useless. He inspected Italian glassware, porcellain kitsch and jewellery. He spent some time, considering a beautifully modelled fake oil lamp that was meant for burning incense, and some more time looking at a mechanical canary bird that was supposed to sing when exposed to sunlight. He asked for a demonstration and was told that unfortunately, no sunlight was available within the store. But there was a little crank, so the bird could be made to sing whenever he wished... Ciel found it all bizarre and moved on to the lady's fashion department.

According to Ciel's description of Miss Elizabeth's age and size, a model was called in to present him hats, dresses and even some ball gowns.

"Expensive" was never the problem. The "pink and cute" part definitely was: Anything not matching those criteria could not even be taken into consideration. Anything resembling the specifications even remotely, the young earl would refuse immediately. Before long, the manager of the lady's wear department frequently dried her brow and neck with a silk handkerchief. Ciel sat with his head resting on his hand, tapping his walking stick and looking sullen.

Sebastian had fallen silent long ago. Naturally he stood next to Ciel's armchair, just like he was supposed to. But today, instead of his usual, reassuring presence, the demon radiated anxiety and discomfort. Even though his gazes kept darting about, he basically stared into space. Every so often he'd discreetly blow his nose.

Eventually, Ciel's patience snapped: "Can you stop making those noises? What's wrong with you?"

"Can we. Maybe. Just purchase this gown young master?" the demon asked, almost pleadingly.

"Purchase it? Are you serious? It's _pink_!" Ciel scrutinized his butler and found him looking even paler than usual. And now the demon even closed his eyes and held on to the backrest of Ciel's chair, as he drew a laboured, shuddering breath. Ciel frowned. "Maybe you'd like to wait for me out in the open? Get some fresh air? You do look sort of indisposed."

Of course it was highly uncommon, even unconventional for a butler and his master to seperate during a shopping tour. Not to speak of a demon deliberately leaving his affiliate out of sight. Yet, Sebastian seemed utterly relieved.

"Like. Open. Thank," he sniffed.

"Alright then. Remember the bench under the streetlight? In front of the main entrance? I'll collect you there."

Ciel watched his butler stagger off and decided to speed things up: Pink. Cute. Kitty. Perfume. _Now!_

* * *

Twenty minutes later Ciel left the building, followed by two shop assistants carrying his purchases. Sebastian sat on the appointed bench. He had his handkerchied in front of his face and he looked up only when his master already stood before him.

"I'm done shopping," Ciel said, while the assistants piled up boxes and bags. "The carriage is being hailed. Tanaka should be here in a minute." He looked at the traffic and reconsidered. "Better make that five minutes. Move over!"

Sebastian vacated the now snow-free seat for his master. Ciel sat down.

"How's your nose?"

Sebastian's reply was muffled: "Puff'd-up'n clogg'd."

"Yes. You sound like that, too." Ciel looked around, taking in the illuminated shop displays, the snow, the Christmas trees. He discovered an actor in a Santa Claus costume in front of a toy store. The merry Father Christmas was entertaining a crowd of children and attracting ever more audience. They swarmed around him like so many buzzing bees, trying to climb on his lap in order to stroke his beard, touch his nose and whisper their wishes into his ear.

"Look at those children," Ciel said. "They are so happy."

Sebastian made a noise that registered somewhere between a cough and a derisive snort.

"I remember Christmas, when I was young," Ciel went on, as if he hadn't heard. "I used to write letters to Santa Claus, just like they do. And when I found the presents in the stocking on Christmas day, I'd smile and be so damned happy. I'd tried so hard to be a nice boy all year long. Just like them."

"Sort of hard to imagine. Someone like you believing in jolly old immortal. Coming down North Pole. Just to put gifts inna stocking," Sebastian mumbled into his hanky. "Of course that was long before we met."

"But I do believe in Santa Claus," Ciel said.

Sebastian stopped his fierce attempts at blowing his nose and turned to him. He looked surprised.

"How could I not believe in him?" Ciel poked his walking stick in a heap of snow that looked like a half-hearted attempt at building a snowman. Children at play, while their parents sat on the bench, going through their shopping list. Ciel could picture them now. Being so _damned happy_, all of them. "Fancy this: A demon in high-heel boots getting you out of a cage to be your butler and eventually eat your soul. A jolly, elderly man travelling the world in a reindeer sleigh to bring you presents. And now, tell me: What's the difference? And which one would you prefer believing in? If you were human, of course."

"The old guy has no feel for classy entrances," Sebastian said off-handedly. "I mean, reindeers and chimneys? _Oh, please!_" He sneezed. "However, you, young master, should prefer demons. Santa Claus and his North Pole toy manufactory are serious competition to Funtom."

"Did you just sneeze?"

Instead of answering, Sebastian sneezed again.

Ciel creased his brow. "Is that still due to that stupid perfume testing?"

"That's unlikely." Sebastian looked at a loss. "However, I have no alternative explanation to offer, mylord."

"I might. You're not falling ill, are you? Caught a cold?"

"Impossible." Sebastian coughed. And coughed.

Ciel eyed him suspiciously. "I should probably make one or two visits on the rare occasion of my being in town. But I'd probably better skip that custom and get you home fast."

Feeling something strange and threatening gather inside, Sebastian didn't object.

* * *

The drive home turned out the worst Ciel had ever had. Sebastian did not complain, but he had trouble breathing and he was getting worse by the minute.

"Damn, I regret pushing those paper slips under your nose." Ciel shook his head. "Is there some way I can help?"

Sebastian couldn't answer on account of the violent coughing that shook his body.

"Don't panic." Ciel rummaged in his pocket and produced an inhalator. "My asthma medicine. I was afraid of a fit in the middle of the crowd, so I brought it along."

"Won't work." Sebastian doubled over and coughed into his cupped hands.

"Well, if it doesn't work, it won't hurt, either." Ciel reached over, brushing aside the long black fringes. "Come on. Inhale." He knew from experience that the feeling that _something_ was being done might turn out almost as important and helpful as the treatment itself. He just didn't think, he should explain right now. "Now lean way over and put your head down. No. Don't curl up. Just lean forward." Ciel maneuvered Sebastian into the intended position and started to pat his back. He had no idea, if this kind of assistance would avail to something with a demon. But before long, Sebastian was coughing up mucus. Ciel handed a fresh handkerchief down. It was accepted with an air of gratefulness that stood in marked contrast to the gross sounds coming from the patient.

"You've caught a cold, if ever I saw one." Ciel continued to pat and rub the demon's back. "I can understand it's scary. But you've got to stay calm. Just think that it's something, all humans go through once in a while. Don't cramp. Just keep breathing, that's good..." Ciel kept talking and Sebastian gave himself over to the sound of his voice. If his master told him to stay calm, he would stay calm. On the conscious plane it was simple as that, and gradually, the spasm ebbed off. There was no way Ciel could tell, whether it was the asthma medicine kicking in at last, or the mental discipline taking effect on the body.

It was enough to feel and hear the demon's breathing become easier.

"Don't rush yourself. Stay down." Ciel emphasized his advice with his hand in Sebastian's hair, holding the demon's head down with cautious force.

Two minutes later, Sebastian stirred more energetically. Ciel let go and the demon straigthened up slowly. He looked spent and worn out. "Thank you, mylord," he rasped.

"Don't speak," Ciel said gruffly. "You'll only start hacking again."

No riches of the world would be sufficient bait to make him admit that he'd been scared. He put his head in his hand and his elbow on the window sill and stared at the landscape. Sebastian obeyed the order to keep his silence. Naturally, he still coughed frequently. But the sound had lost its suffocating and painful quality.

Thus, they reached Phantomhive.

* * *

As usual, the servants gathered to welcome their master on his arrival. They wanted to see what he had brought back. Bard, Mey-Rin and Finny swarmed about the carriage almost like the children had surrounded the fake Santa Claus. Boxes and bags were carried into the hall.

"So many presents!" Finny said, looking at the small pile with gleaming eyes.

"These boxes contain gifts for my business partners," Ciel said. "Mey-Rin! Did I ask or permit you to open them?"

Mey-Rin blushed, a little parcel in her hand. "It's pretty," she said.

"You're worse than a bunch of curious kids. Now, everyone," Ciel said, raising his voice. "Sebastian has caught a cold. I have business to attend this afternoon. So I'll leave it up to you to assist him. Do whatever is necessary to prevent him from being down with the flu tomorrow."

"But, master!" Sebastian's voice was almost drowned out by the servants' collective promise that they would take good care of him. Very good care. The _most bestest _of cares.

"I know, what you're going to say. But I want someone to be around you and handle things, just in case," Ciel said. "Bard, Mey-Rin, Finny, Tanaka - I entrust Sebastian to your care. And, Sebastian, you will let them take care of you. The Pantomhive household can't be without a butler on Christmas day. So _get well_."

And he left.

"Master?" Sebastian took a step forward, as if to touch his hand to the closed door. "Master? What have I done to you? I mean, like, _so far_?" He turned around and looked into the servants' sympathetic and eager faces. "Just when did you start hating me like that?"

"Alright then," Bard said, taking charge and turning to his fellow servants. "Ciel wants us to do whatever is necessary? I say, let's do more than that! Let's nurse Sebastian all the way back to health! Who's with me?"

Everyone shouted their affirmation.

"Excellent! Let's get to work! Finny, prepare a hot bath! Mey-Rin, into the kitchen! We'll need tea, and rum, and tea with rum and ... and _more tea_. Tanaka, get some blankets."

"I'm_ dead_," moaned Sebastian, but no-one listened to him.

"And what are you going to do?" Finny asked.

"I'm the supervisor, now that Sebastian's out of action."

Sebastian decided to undertake a desperate effort to save himself: "I appreciate your eagerness," he said, putting his coat on the hook. "But fun's over. Stay calm, everyone. Every human catches a cold once in a while, and I am merely a butler." His throat tickled. "Now, as to tonight's dinner - "

"Aw, Sebastian, forget about work," Bard said. "Just this once: Think of yourself. Be a devil!"

"But I - " He couldn't fight the urge any longer. He coughed. He knew immediately, he'd made a mistake. The problem was, he couldn't stop.

"What you need is a hot bath." Bard grabbed Sebastian's elbow and pushed the choking demon into the corridor.

+++ End of Chapter 1+++


	2. Anything to Get You Well

Ruffling Sebastian. I just love it... and since you obviously enjoy reading about it, we're all having a good time. ;) Thanks for reviewing and putting me on all different kinds of alerts. I really appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel and/or the Phantomhive servants. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++ Chapter 2: Anything to Get You Well +++

The foam on the steaming hot water probably smelled of rose blossoms, but to Sebastian and his blocked nose it was just white, slightly sleazy stuff to pass through on his way into the tub. He let the hot water engulf him and leaned his head against the hard brass surface. Closing his eyes, he listened to Bard declaring the bathroom a "girl-free zone".

Earlier, the chef had assigned Mey-Rin to provide warmed towels. As she'd entered the bathroom, she found it filled with an impenetrable swirling, steaming mass of shadows and fog. And she'd heard the splishing, splashing sound of someone, she couldn't see, testing the water with his hand.

"Oh," Mey-Rin had called, the reality of the situation dawning upon her like a rose blossom unfolding in fast motion. "Oh. I'm holding your _towels!_"

Sebastian's voice had answered from out of the shadows, "Thank you, Mey-Rin. Please put them on the chair with my tailsuit."

Only then did she notice the garment on the chair beside the door and blushed deeply. "Oh, dear! You're not wearing your tailsuit!"

And Bard had said, impatiently, "He's not wearing _anything_. He's going to take a bath."

And now Finny was trying hard to bring Mey-Rin around, who was lost in a world of her own, grinning and repeating "Oh! Sure! A bath! Oh!" over and over. Sebastian could hear them now, in the bedroom that was part of the guest apartment Bard had chosen as a temporary quarters for his patient. One had to give the chef credit for the idea: Guest rooms at Phantomhive manor were equipped with a bell pull in case the domestics' assistance was needed. On the other hand, the idea was, however, a little short-sighted, since the Phantomhive butler was the one to be alerted first, so the bell pull led to Sebastian's own room. No other domestic would be called in in case he required assistance.

Of course, it didn't matter, as Sebastian didn't plan on goofing off for very much longer. Not with tomorrow being Christmas day and all... he definitely had no time to waste.

But the shadowy quiet of the bathroom was a nice thing to have after the crowds of London, and the warm, steamy air felt so infinitely good in his lungs. He forced himself to take regular breaths, then continued to breathe deeply. He still wondered what might have been the problem in the first place.

"Do you already feel better?" Bard's head poked out of the mist which the demon had gathered around himself. His hair was already starting to become matted in the humid air, and drops of water condensated on his face. He looked at Sebastian with the expression he usually saved for cakes that refused to raise. Sebastian couldn't help the intuition that the chef would produce a flame thrower next, shouting that baking powder needed warmth to reach its peak effectivity. And a butler's blocked nose probably needed to be cleansed with fire.

"I'm fine," Sebastian said. "Now, Bard, concerning the preparations for - "

"_You're_ not fine," Bard said. "If you think, you're fine, that means, you're actually sicker than you think!"

"Nonsense, Bard, let's talk about tomorrow's table decoration - "

"Don't. Talk. About. Work. In your condition - "

"My condition is fine," Sebastian insisted with strained calm. "And the floral arrangements are due for delivery at sevenhundred hours. I want you to have the table set a- _yaarghbllb_!" Sebastian tried to grab hold of the tub's edge, as Bard clutched his hair and submerged him. The slippery metal screeched and offered resistance, but no support. Sebastian struggled, slipped, then, finally, he managed to sit up. He was soaked and peeved. But most of all, he felt a little guilty, in the way a dog feels guilty on finding that, by munching playfully, it had actually and unintentionally destroyed its master's slippers...

Bard stared at the water gushing over his feet: "How did you do that?"

"Just like everyone else," Sebastian said, smoothing the collar of his pyjama jacket. "I got up and got out of the tub. Used a towel and put on pyjamas."

It took Bard a moment to realize that Sebastian wasn't talking about the long, parallel gashes, four on each side of the tub, that had neatly cut open the metal.

"Do you like them?" Sebastian went on, as if they were not standing in a growing puddle. "They're silk."

"They're – black," Bard said. A thought crossed his mind: _The tub looks like a lion's tried to claw its way out,_ and then, _Where's the can opener gone?_

Sebastian nibbled his left forefinger. "Now, look at that. Broke my nail," he stated innocently and appearing just a little cross. "Please, don't bother with the wet floor. I'll take care of it later."

His choice of words rang a bell with Bard, who snapped, "There's only one thing to take care of, and that's you, pal!"

Pushing open the door, Sebastian left the bathroom. And was hit by an icy draft that took his breath and almost caused him to cough again. The window was wide open. Glittering snowflakes came whirling in. Finny was busy with the curtains, trying to close them against the cold air and the snow.

"Hi Sebastian," the gardener said, looking over his shoulder. "How do you feel?"

"Ah - a little cold, maybe?"

"You need fresh air," Finny said. "Lots of it."

Bard shouted, "Finny, it's freezing in here!"

"Fresh," insisted Finny. "Fresh air. The best thing to help with a cold."

"Excuse me, everyone," Sebastian said politely. "I think, my hair is turning into icicles. I was going to dry it, but ... could I get a towel and some warmth around here, _please_?"

"Get into bed!" Bard shouted, folding back the blanket. Sebastian climbed in, counting his blessings that he could not catch pneumonia. Although he didn't know what was wrong, he was still sure, he didn't suffer from a cold. Not one of those that befell humans, anyway.

He couldn't linger over the question. His body signalled rapidly rising temperatures and he realized that he'd got three blankets piled on and several hot-water bottles tucked in with him. It was probably his own fault. He'd asked for warmth, after all. A quick manipulation of the bottles' contents took care of the problem, but the next one was already at the door.

Mey-Rin was admitted again, now that Sebastian was covered up to his nose. She carried a collection of mugs on a tray.

"I fixed you something hot to drink," she beamed.

"_Some_ thing?" Sebastian asked faintly.

"We couldn't agree on what would be the best remedy," Finny said. "Seems like everyone has their favorite."

"So Mey-Rin prepared them all and you tell us afterwards, what worked best for you," Bard said.

"Ho, ho, ho," Tanaka added.

Sebastian shook his head, "No, really! This is going too far. I'll - "

"Anything to get you well soon," Bard said. "We promised. And you were told to cooperate."

When Mey-Rin set out to cross the room, Sebastian hoped with all his heart that she would trip, as she usually did. It was just his luck, this was not an usual affair at all, so she arrived safely.

"Well?" she asked with a true nurse's gaiety and efficiency. "What would you like to start with?"

* * *

Two hours after Ciel had left, Sebastian lay prone on his bed, too groggy to move. A demon was not supposed to get woozy on warm milk with cognac, hot lemon with rum, tea with brandy or mulled red wine. However, a combination of all four, administered in large quantities and spiced with cinnamon, ginger, clove, tabasco, pepper and/or honey, would do the job anytime.

Now, Finny was giving him a rub-down with some ointment that would probably have smelled like mint and resin. _If _the demon's nose had been able to discern scents. As things were, he could only deduce from the illustrations on the can, which Finny had put on the table beside his bed. It featured a peppermint plant and a fir tree along with several other herbs. Sebastian couldn't make out, what they were, since the image started to blur. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Don't worry, Sebastian. We'll have you back on your feet in no time," panted Finny, working Sebastian's back with the heels of both hands.

"I doubt it," Sebastian mumbled. "You just broke my spine. It hurts like hell and I can't feel my toes."

"Aargh! Sorry!"

"It's not that bad." The cracked vertebrae already came back together. Five seconds later, Sebastian tentatively wiggled his toes. Finny sighed with relief. When he recommenced his work, he made an effort at concentrating - and amazingly, he now managed to adapt his great strength to his moves. Now, what he was doing actually started to feel good. The first pleasant experience of this entire, rotten day.

Resting his head on his folded arms, Sebastian focussed on the pillow in front of his face. He still felt the urge to cough every now and then, but it was too troublesome to give in to. Everything was too troublesome, since Bard had come up with the idea of chicken broth and gruel being just the right diet to return strength to the illness-stricken. Of course, as he considered Sebastian half dead and in need of _lots_ of strength, the demon was very full now.

Laying on his stomach, Sebastian slipped his hand under his body and gingerly pressed it on the soft spot below his sternum. _I couldn't eat another bite, _he thought. _Please, young master, don't let Mey-Rin come back with the cocoa and marshmallow concoction, she threatened me with... _

"No, you don't," Finny said. "Please, don't say something like that."

"Mmmh?" asked Sebastian, ever so eloquently.

"You just murmured that you might die now and it would take us all of Christmas to find out, because all the hot tea and milk and stuff kept your corpse from cooling down."

Sebastian stretched lazily. "Don't listen to me, Finny. I'm too stuffed and woozy to make sense."

"But you're not going to die, are you?"

_Sinking back into the cushions, enjoying the fluffyness... _"Not right now, no."

"You want some more milk with honey?"

"NO! Blimey, do you ever pay attention to what I tell you?"

"But – but you just said I shouldn't..." Finny was close to tears.

"My mistake." Sebastian sighed. "I should have made myself clearer. I know you mean well."

Gradually Finny's choked-back sniffs subsided. The light waned. A clock ticked. Finny kneaded. Sebastian purred.

After some time, Finny said, "Sebastian? It's okay to fall asleep."

"...meely drfftng..."

Finny laughed softly. "Drifting's okay, too."

" 'S not. It's critical," Sebastian murmured, forcing himself to become a little more awake. "Finny? What if I drifted off and you suddenly felt something like feathers unfolding beneath your fingers? Would you be scared?"

Finny smiled doubtfully. "I think you're dreaming already, Sebastian."

"I never dream. I'm the Phantomhive butler and dreaming wasn't in the job description. So, would you freak out and scream and be traumatized for life?"

"I guess, I am already traumatized for life, sort of," Finny said thoughtfully. "What more damage could some feathers do? I mean, good heavens, _feathers_..."

"Good heavens?" Sebastian echoed and chuckled. "No. That's definitely not, where _my_ feathers will carry you."

Finny thought about that, then his face lit up: "Look. It's snowing again!"

He hurried over to the window and put both hands against the pane. "That means, Santa Claus can ride in on his reindeer sleigh tonight."

"Finny!" Sebastian murmured. "Take your fingers off the glass. I already washed it. I mean, I de-greased. It. _Ceased?_ Oh dear." Pause. Then, "Just take them off, alright? Meanwhile?"

"You're not making sense, Sebastian." With boyish delight Finny watched the tiny crystals powder the glass and melt. "The others will be in the parlor by now. Hanging up their stockings. Do you want me to hang up a stocking for you, Sebastian? Sebastian?" Puzzled by the silence at last, Finny turned around. He was not entirely surprised to find Sebastian halfway into sleep. He didn't like the way, his patient behaved, though.

"No," Finny said, returning to the bedside. "Don't curl up. It makes you look so ill, and you'll only start coughing again."

And he quickly sat on the bed close to Sebastian, so that there was simply not enough space for the demon to draw up his knees. Sebastian insisted half-heartedly, while fighting the faint tickle in his throat. Finny reached out and stroked the black hair, trying to soothe him. The urge to cough subsided. Sebastian entered a deeper stage of sleep and relaxed into the cushions. But, being a demon, there was always some part of his mind that stayed awake, observing and assessing. And with this residue of consciousness he knew that Finny had done something that helped immensely, just like Ciel had accomplished something, using his asthma medicine and his voice. He just couldn't figure out, what it was. Or why. Or -

The snow whirled. A clock ticked. Finny stroked.

Sebastian slept.

+++ End of Chapter 2 +++


	3. Phantomhive Christmas Treats

This is a long chapter. But it feels increasingly wrong to do a Christmas story, when the birds start singing in the trees. (And for those of you, who re-read: I've given the conversation between Ciel and Sebastian a working-over. Seems, I didn't get them to say, what I really meant them to express, at the first go. Thanks to all, who pointed out their doubts to me.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel and/or the Phantomhive servants. I hold no rights whatsoever to Kuroshitsuji/"Black Butler", and I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++ Chapter 3: Phantomhive Christmas Treats +++

Sebastian drifted out of sleep in the middle of the night. It didn't take him much time or effort to orient himself, since part of him had never lost track. There was a candle beside his bed, but it had gone out long ago. Pale moonlight seeped through the window, reflected by the snow outside. Finny was snuggled up against him, fast asleep.

Cautious not to wake the gardener, Sebastian slipped out of bed, found a new tailsuit laid out for him and got dressed. He felt fine, but that might change. Better to get on with business. He proceeded to the parlour.

The fireplace was cold and stockings had been lined on a cord in front of it. Someone had put up a brass stand-up display of a sleigh that was pulled by two prancing reindeers. The model was about knee-high and could probably be used as a fire screen. That would at least give its kitsch existence some kind of practical meaning.

Sebastian moved through the darkness and opened a cupboard containing the silver cleaning cloths and agents. It was almost sad. A thirteen-year-old human boy should be on the look-out for gifts. But all Sebastian needed to do to protect his secret was close the compartment and refrain from ordering the servants to polish the silverware just now.

Balancing the parcels, he had retrieved, Sebastian moved back to the stockings. He nearly bumped into the figure, who stood silently beside the mantlepiece.

"Tanaka-san? You're up late."

Tanaka simply looked on.

"Tomorrow's Christmas day," Sebastian said, answering to Tanaka's unspoken question. "As the Phantomhive butler it is my duty to prepare the celebration."

Tanaka looked at the gifts, saying "Ho, ho, ho" under his breath.

"A magnifying glass for Mey-Rin. A pocket fire extinguisher for Bard. And a pebble plant for Finny." Sebastian weighted the grey stone on his palm, before he put it into the gardener's stocking. "The vendor told me that nothing will kill those plants. I am sort of determined to give him the lie. This is for you, I won't tell you, what it is, of course."

Tanaka frowned at a flat black cardboard box that was about the size of a postcard and "ho, ho, ho-ed".

"This is for Ciel. It's a smile," Sebastian said. "A smile in a box. Ciel once told me that he has forgotten how to laugh and feel happy. This will make him remember."

"Nice gift," Tanaka said.

"It's not." Sebastian stuffed the box into Ciel's stocking. "Not really. Sometimes it will help. But more often, it will make his life so much harder to bear..."

"Naughty butler. Naughty," Tanaka said. "What about Christmas spirit?"

Seven words. Sebastian was sort of impressed.

"I don't celebrate Christmas," he said. Tanaka put on an expression of serenity Sebastian had never seen before.

"What is nowadays known as Christmas used to be a celebration of the winter solstice in pagan ages," the old butler said, clearly and coherently and without so much as a trace of "ho ho ho". "The druids would gather in their circles of stone to greet the returning light of the sun. Nothing wrong with that, one should think, even for a demon."

"Who are you?" Sebastian started to stuff Mey-Rin's gift into the maid's stocking. "And please, don't say 'Santa Claus' or 'Father Christma– _ah_? What is that?"

Tanaka – or rather, the being that for the moment looked like Tanaka - looked at the little fake oil lamp, the demon had pulled out of Mey-Rin's stocking.

"Don't you remember? When your master's purchases were stacked up in the hall, Mey-Rin opened a box and found this little piece of knick-knack. She liked it. Ciel must've decided to give one to her. That's one nice gesture of a not-quite-so-nice boy."

"It's for burning incense!"

"So it is. Here's the fuel." Tanaka held out a small bag that was made to look like something, a tiny Santa Claus would carry on his back. It gave off a breath-taking stench. Sebastian backed off as if he were mortal and threatened with a weapon. And he sort of was. Demons couldn't stand incense. It was the smell, of course, that would make them sick, but also served to alert and warn them. Because things would get really nasty at direct contact or over-exposure. The fine particles would stuff up their noses, clot in their lungs, suffocate them slowly and painfully like a heavy stone on their chest...

Sebastian felt as if the druidic sun of winter solstice had risen in order to enlighten him: "When - no, how did I get exposed to incense? To such an extent, anyway? The way I felt, I didn't just pass by one of these toys."

He didn't really expect to get an answer. But the being in Tanaka's form started to give one, anyway: "Incense is this year's top seller. It's everywhere. Not aggressively, mark me. They distribute it via the air conditioning in the big stores, or so I am told. It's being sprinkled over the customers' heads. It mingles with the air, settles in their clothes, in their hair and coats. Tiny, tiny fragments of incense. Shopping crowds like it. Their human senses are too dull. They don't recognize it consciously. They just perceive it as another part of the overall Christmas feeling." He shook his head. "And, of course, they'll come up with the idea to buy little fake oil lamps by the dozen to use as give-aways for business partners."

"Are you saying Ciel did that? I _sat _on that stuff in the carriage?"

"Sat on, sort of bathed in and suffered your fill for it, as it would seem." Tanaka looked the demon up and down. "How could you've missed the scent?"

"We went to the perfume department, first..."

"They won't use it there, for the obvious reason that it would impair sales. But you did visit the gift shop? And the ladies' department?"

"Only after my sense of smell was temporarily killed by perfume," Sebastian couldn't take his eyes off the little box, as if it were some kind of poisonous animal preparing to jump at him.

"I see. Then why are you not curled up with your knees under your chin, unable to move, while coughing your lungs out?"

"They wouldn't let me." Dimly, Sebastian remembered his repeated attempts to assume a fetal position. It had been an instincive response then, holding a false promise to facilitate the burdensome act of breathing. Every demon fell for that. But it was absolutely counterproductive. The incense was disintegrating the lung tissue, while blocking the regenerative processes of the supernatural body. So, basically, there was only one thing to do: Get it all out and off, while you were still able to act. If your lungs had taken enough damage, you couldn't cough anymore. If you didn't cough, the incense would stay in and clot up terminally. After that, no power of self-healing would regenerate this particular physical form again.

Of course, since you were busy suffocating, you needed someone to remind you of that causal connection and help you to stick to your task.

Get a determined young master to assist you with the effort of hacking the stuff up. Get Bard to put you in a bath and rinse off the particles, and even the dust in your hair...

"Yes, I see you're catching on," Tanaka said. "Even Mey-Rin helped. Her hot beverages should probably be subjected to the Controlled Substances Act. But they did _something _to the stuff you had swallowed, and the outcome helped your body, if not your head. And Finny... well, he's just a sunshine in his own rights. But he thought of laying out a fresh tailcoat for you. Think of what happened, when you moved to put your contaminated coat on that hook." Tanaka smiled.

"You know quite a lot of what happened. I asked you before: Who are you?"

"Maybe, I'm a dream. You _were _just a little high, when you fell asleep, you know."

"I fell asleep, _because_ I was a little high," Sebastian corrected. "Even so - demons don't sleep the way humans do."

"They usually do, when we meet in this world," Tanaka said. "Every rational being does. No one ever watches me, as I go about, doing my job."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed: "I think it's about time, you climbed back into the chimney, took your reindeers and were on your way."

"I will." The being in Tanaka's form moved a little, opening the incense bag. Murder in his eyes, Sebastian retreated half a step and tripped over the decorative reindeer sleigh. He grabbed hold of the line that held the stockings and let go, remembering that his master's gift might be damaged. Then, he sat on the floor with his back to the wall.

"Well, maybe there's not much love lost between you and Christmas," the visitor in Tanaka's form said, shrugging. "But never underestimate the practical value of reindeers and chimneys. And Mey-Rin's idea of orange juice with Irish cream."

"_Oh, please!_" Sebastian's black lashes fluttered like angry birds. His eyes closed. Only to allow him to concentrate for the charge, he told himself. Only for a moment.

Or two. Or three...

And then, like millions of rational beings, men, women and children all over the world, he woke up from the pitch darkness of sound sleep and found that the night before Christmas had passed.

* * *

Sebastian heard his name and tried to open his eyes. This awakening had nothing to do with easy-going drifting in and out of consciousness, he was used to. This was downright hard work, first requiring him to find his lids, then figure out how to make them respond. His master sat before him, shaking him and calling him again: "Sebastian? Do you hear me?"

Sebastian's voice was more compliant than his eyes had been: "Yes, master."

"About time," Ciel said. "It's Christmas morning and there are gifts in the parlour."

"You already found them?"

"The others did. So, it's time for me to join them. The traditional Phantomhive Christmas toast, you know. Are you looking for something?"

"I don't remember, how I got back to my room." And it _was _his room, Sebastian realized. Not the guest quarters, where he had fallen asleep with Finny sitting by his side.

"You got up in the middle of the night, got dressed and walked out the door," Ciel said. "Finny saw you. But he was having a nice dream and, being half asleep and drowsy, decided that he could catch up with you later. Well, 'later' was around dawn, and when he went looking for you, he found the stockings filled. That was about fifteen minutes ago."

"I see."

Ciel watched the demon attentively. "Sebastian? What happened last night?"

"I have not yet come to terms with it myself," Sebastian said. "Until I do, let's blame it on incense and the Christmas spirits, it awakens."

"Sounds poetic. Can I borrow that for my Christmas toast?" Ciel sighed. He looked forward to opening gifts. But the anticipation was spoiled somewhat by the prospect of having to make this little embarrassing speech in front of his household. It was a Phantomhive Christmas custom, the acting Earl and head of the family sharing a treat with his servants on Christmas morning. It could be anything, from a drink to a sweet or a special meal. Ciel wasn't worried; he'd just employ, whatever edibles he came upon in the parlour and considered appropriate. But he had no idea, how to address his servants: "Once again it's Christmas?" or "Well, well, well, here we go again"?

"Anything you say will do, young master," Sebastian comforted him, as they walked in the corridor. "As long as you don't comment on 'how you despise those lickspittles non-working', like your honorable Grandfather is said to have done, fifty years ago..."

"That's a malicious misinterpretation," Ciel said. "He merely told his butler, he didn't like the _mixed pickles_ _on_ his _turkey_."

Sebastian froze, stopping dead in his tracks: "_The turkey!_"

"Yes? What about the - "

But Sebastian had set off at a gallop. Reaching the parlour door and all but throwing it open, he encountered cheerful activity. The servants were all up and about, playing with their gifts. Mey-Rin was holding her magnifying glass in front of her face, getting a close-up of each and everything in the room. Finni had plunged the grey "living stone" that was supposed to come up with a beautiful blossom into a bucket full of water, watching and waiting. Bard was practicing target shooting, aiming the foam-spraying muzzle of his fire extinguisher at a five-armed candle holder. And Tanaka ignored his gift-wrapped present altogether and rather played with the broken fake oil lamp, he had found on the floor.

Sebastian couldn't help giving the old butler a queer look, but there was no sign that Tanaka was aware of a conversation having taking place some hours ago.

Sebastian clapped his hands: "May I have your attention? Finny! Mey-Rin! Bard! This is Christmas day, and we have a lot to do! Bard, have you prepared the turkey? No? I thought so. Go, get it. On the double, if you please. Mey-Rin, assist him with the cooking. Finny, I want you to go and collect all the incense you can find in this house. Collect it and take it into the garden. I want it _all _gone. Tanaka-san, this applies for your toy, too, I am afraid. Why don't you go and help yourself to some tea?"

"What is this latest obsession with incense?" Ciel asked. He was standing by the fireplace, raising himself on tiptoes to reach way down into his stocking. "You make it sound like smelling it will explode our heads or something."

"That is unlikely. But it will certainly make me sick, young master."

"Ah," said Ciel. He now held the cardboard box in his hand and was looking for some kind of clue to its contents.

"You see, the coughing and the trouble with breathing - incense will do that to, well - to _me_."

"Ah," said Ciel, utterly unimpressed. Sebastian could not tell, if his master had even listened. His attention seemed focussed on the secret of the black box. The young Earl raised the lid and his mouth opened. His face turned pale, then flushed. Sebastian stepped up to him. "Young master? Are you alright?"

"It's a photo." Ciel stared at the picture that lay in the box. "Mother ... Father ... and our Christmas tree." His face softened. "It's the first Christmas tree that I can remember..."

"Yes. This toddler is you." Sebastian pointed at the little boy hiding behind the Earl of Phantomhive's legs and holding on to the man's knees.

"Tanaka had told me to look out for the birdie", Ciel said. "But somehow, on that day, I expected a big, boisterous parrot to come out of the camera ... and I was afraid it would sit on my head. I had not yet learned about true fear, back then." Ciel passed his fingertips over the images of his younger self and the tree. "But that photo was lost. Burnt. On that horrible, horrible night..." His voice caught in his throat. His fingers moved on, now touching his mother's face. She was smiling. Timidly, Ciel smiled back at her.

Sebastian started to leave, convinced that Ciel would not want anyone around now. But the Earl's voice stopped him: "You have given me such a treasure and I don't even have a gift for you."

"Never mind. Young master, you know I will receive all I ever wanted. In time." Sebastian felt he was just being honest and stating facts. He was sort of surprised to see Ciel's face close.

"Oh. Of course," Ciel said bitterly. "How could I slip like that? There's no Santa Claus giving free presents to nice little boys. There's only demons, humouring their masters, regardless of morals." Ciel looked at Sebastian's feet and, regaining his composure a little, added, "Whatever happened to their fancy boots..."

The remark was meant as an attempt to take the barb out of his outburst. But now it was Sebastian, who, feeling out of his depths and misunderstood, was rubbed against the grain: "I regret that high heels are not part of a butler's attire," he said sardonically, acting the demon that he was. "Looking at you from their extra six-inches vantage point made you appear even shorter and weaker and more insignificant than you already are, young master."

Ciel's temper flared up. "How dare you talk to me like that?"

"A short while ago, you complained about our conversation getting ever more uninspired. So I thought of something amusing to meet your wish. _Humouring you!_"

_So that's it, _Ciel thought. _The backside of the coin - he doesn't like to be reminded of _that_._

Suddenly he remembered a conversation, he'd had with Lizzy, some years back: ('_I like doing visits on Christmas,' _she'd told him, sitting under the Phantomhive Christmas tree and making Ciel help her put on her new hair clasps. '_Because if we stay at home, it seems there's always a fight. People fight on Christmas, Ciel. Sometimes they get really mean and unfair. But not us. We will never fight.' _

_'How can you be so sure,' he'd asked._

_'But Ciel,' she'd said, patiently, as if talking to a child. 'It's _Christmas_.' )_

- "I won't fight with you, Sebastian," Ciel said, returning into the here and now. "Get on your knees." He didn't even sound angry. There was a hierarchy, and he was re-establishing it. The demon genuflected. Ciel reached out his hand, offering his family ring to his butler. Sebastian hesitated for the briefest moment. Then he took Ciel's hand and reverently touched his lips to the precious. Something had gone off the wrong way, he just couldn't figure out, how it had happened...

"Merry Christmas, Sebastian," Ciel said. His hand trembled. And suddenly, the demon thought, he _saw_.

"Happy Yuletide, Ciel," Sebastian said. His voice sounded distant in his own ears.

Their eyes met.

"Damn. Why can't you even try to make that sound like you mean it?," Ciel whispered.

"Because I can hear your soul, I'm listening to it now," the demon whispered back._ It's crying... _"Christmas for you is never happy, and it will never be."

"And you don't lie the way humans do. I know." Ciel smiled bravely. Sebastian actually looked sympathetic, thinking, _If I'd but known that a photograph would render you so vulnerable, master..._

Aloud, he asked: "Young master? Is there something - ?"

" - you can do? No." Ciel shook his head. "Thank you for the photo. I really appreciate it. But there are things that cannot be brought back, no matter how much we miss them. This holds true for feelings as well as people."

Sebastian realized that perhaps, there was _something_, he could do. He wasn't entirely sure, how it worked with humans, or why, but then again, he was at a loss with this whole situation anyway and might as well try. He gave Ciel's hand a tentative tug, and sure enough, the young Earl made a little move forward.

All it would take now to hug him, was one harmonized move, forward and up, and then - _beats me, if I know_, the demon thought desperately. _Guess, I'll just hold on and -_

"SEBAASTIAAAAN!"

The two-voiced cry and the impact came at the same instant. Sebastian made a muffled sound, as he was pushed forward. Ciel evaded getting hit, while holding up the photo to protect it. Sebastian sat up. He seemed to have a fleeting memory of a turkey coming down on his head – and as a matter of fact, he spotted the bird among the rows of his assaulters. "_What? _What is it, Bard?"

"What is it? _What is it? _The turkey's all wet and soapy, that's what it is!" The cook held the great bird by one leg, wielding it like a club.

Ciel gave Sebastian a puzzled look. Sebastian's eyes widened: "Oh dear! The damaged bath tub - "

"You said, you'd take care of it," Bard scolded. "Well, obviously you didn't. So the water seeped through the floor and into the basement. Where all our food for today's celebration was stored. Well done, Sebastian! I assume, it's biscuits and tea for Christmas dinner, now."

"I'll think of something," Sebastian promised. "Mey-Rin? What's your issue?"

The maid held up a little pot: "I promised you I'd make you some cocoa with marshmallows. But I fell asleep and somehow, in the morning the milk was all gone and the marshmallows had turned all black. So I put in some more milk and sugar and marshmallows, and that was before Finny said that the presents had arrived and now - "

Ciel and Sebastian both peeped into the pot. Cautiously, as if the contents might blow up into their faces. With Mey-Rin, you could never know.

"It's okay, Mey-Rin. I release you from your promise," Sebastian said heroically.

"_Aaaah! _You're just being nice!" Another chance for extensive hugging that Mey-Rin was too clever to miss.

"Maybe," Ciel said reluctantly, "maybe we could... use these marshmallows for the traditional Phantomhive Christmas treat. Those on top seem okay, and I don't see, anyone has prepared anything else, anyway..."

"Master!" Sebastian protested weakly.

"Well, the family chronicles merely tell us about the tradition, not about the food to be used," Ciel said. His face had started to light up, even gaining a mischievous glitter in his eye, if one looked closely enough. "And I do run a candy factory, don't I? Stop making a face like I ordered you to eat it all yourself. I could and maybe it would be fun to watch, but - get a toothpick, everyone."

"Here. There are some stuck in the turkey." Bard handed out picks. The great bulk of the bird began to gape in places and disintegrate in others.

Sebastian facepalmed and sighed.

"Come on, Sebastian", Ciel said cheerfully, handing him a pick with a dark brown and cocoa-doused marshmallow. "Smile. It's Christmas. Do it for Mey-Rin. And for Phantomhive Christmas customs."

He stepped back, raised his marshmallow in salute and somberly looked at everybody around. "Dear mania- _menials_! Menials of the Phantomhive household, once again we – wait! Where's Finny?"

There was a short silence, then Sebastian swayed softly forward on his toes and back again.

"Here he is," he said, as the gardener's arms closed around his waist. His ordered smile never wavered. "Finny. Skip crying out my name. You've already found me. Just tell us, what happened."

"I did as you told me," sobbed Finny. "I collected all the incense I could find in the house and put it on a heap in the garden! I found a lot!"

"You would," Ciel said. "It's very popular this year. I'm going to give it to all my business partners."

"You said you wanted it all gone, Sebastian. So I – I set fire to it."

"You set _fire_ to _incense_?" Sebastian asked, and "You set fire to _my_ incense?" Ciel asked.

"Y-yes, and it smoked and it smokes and it won't stop...and I don't know, what to do."

Not too gently, Sebastian freed himself and went over to the window. White smoke billowed and filled the air between the trees.

Ciel stepped up to the demon. "This _is_ a little scary," he said. "What do you think?" The glance he gave his butler showed, that, contrary to earlier appearances, he had listened to Sebastian explaining the effects of incense on the demonic system.

"Bard, Finny, Mey-Rin, get wet blankets and hay-forks and lots of vinegar," Sebastian ordered. "Tanaka, why don't you go and – eat the last marshmallows somewhere else. Oh no. You really did eat them, didn't you?"

The servants scuttled off.

"Ho, ho, ho," said Tanaka, took the untouched pick out of Sebastian's hand and walked away, putting the marshmallow into his mouth.

"What do you mean to do?" Ciel asked calmly.

"I don't know. I just had to come up with _some _orders. I'm the butler to this – _all of this_ – and I – " Sebastian looked out of the window and heaved a forlorn sigh. "Oh dear, I'm fed up with Christmas! Let's go somewhere, young master. Nice and sunny and warm. _Now._"

"Leave London? On Christmas day?" Ciel smirked. "What about customs?"

"What about them?" Sebastian asked testily. "Christmas used to be a celebration of the light of the sun returning to the world. Winter solstice, druids, all of that..."

"I see. Any suggestions?"

"Florida," deadpanned Sebastian, scooping Ciel up. "Venice? Probably raining there. Egypt might be nice. You could visit the pyramids. There's the tomb of a pharao, name of Tut-Ankh-Amen, still waiting to be re-discovered by modern archaeologists. Or you could hunt some crocodiles. We can be back for dinner."

"Do they have Earl Grey in Egypt?"

"_We_ will have Earl Grey," Sebastian assured him. "Now, close your eyes, young master. We have a long way to go, and the sights along the path are not made for human eyes to behold."

Ciel closed his eyes. _Give the word, Ciel Phantomhive, _he thought, _and with your pawn's next step you'll emerge - not among the shopping crowds of London, but in the shade of the Sphinx, two-thousand miles from England. Two-thousand miles from winter customs, whether they go by the name of Christmas or Yuletide or solstice or anything... _

_But still in the presence of your butler. Who will receive all he ever wanted. In time._

Tombs, and tea, and Sights Not Made For Human Eyes To Behold...

"Sounds great," he said. "Let's go!"

* * *

A/N: Well, everybody, thank you so much for coming with me to this finale. I wonder, how many people stopped reading somewhere during chapter 1, being put out by the mere idea of doing a fanfic on Sebastian catching _a cold?_ I admit, I was playing with fire here, the risk of getting flamed included. Now, I'm so happy, all went well. If you've thought of commenting harshly, but held back to see the story come full circle - thank you for you patience. I hope you like the explanation, I've offered, and we part as friends...

(If you liked the idea of a demon being able to come down with a human illness, I hope, you're not too disappointed, and we part as friends, too...)


End file.
